


Sanctuary

by SplashofMagicX



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Baking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lee Taeyong-centric, Soft Lee Taeyong, Stress Baking, Stress Relief, Stressed Taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplashofMagicX/pseuds/SplashofMagicX
Summary: Taeyong has reached his limit after two weeks of stress and emotional turmoil. He turns to the one outlet that never fails to calm his anxiety: baking.





	Sanctuary

Taeyong’s hands had already begun shaking by the time he made it back to his apartment building. He shifted from foot to foot in the elevator, unable to stand still while he waited to be taken to the sixth floor. Finally, the elevator bell dinged, the automated voice announced that he had reached his destination, and the doors slowly slid open. As he rushed down the hallway and stopped outside his apartment door, the keys rattled in his trembling hands and his lungs tightened around what little oxygen seemed to be making its way into his body.

He would have to start over completely—his midterm project ruined by his incompetent and downright lazy partner. Why had they even been paired up by the professor anyway? Were they not mature enough to choose their own partners or even just do their own work?

It took Taeyong’s shaking hands several tries to actually insert the key into the lock and several more to twist it in just the right way to unlock and then extract the key from their rather finicky door.

Resisting the urge to kick the stupid thing—it really wasn’t the door’s fault he was feeling this way—he took a deep breath and then tilted his head back in a last ditch effort to stop the tears from overflowing. After letting out his breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Finally, silence and that comforting scent of home.

To be fair, his partner’s incompetence in regards to the project was really just the tip of the jagged iceberg that had been the past two weeks. He shut the door with a snap and slipped his shoes off in the entrance area, straightening them obsessively before starting off down the hallway.

His breathing quickened as he considered everything that had happened. First, his overbearing (and not at all well-meaning) parents had called with their somewhat regular lecture about doing well in all his classes so as not to reflect poorly on them. He could only imagine what they must have thought when they had seen his slightly less than perfect marks—a B+ or two would always bring out their scolding tones and a not-so-gentle reminder of who was paying his tuition. His breath stuttered just from thinking about it, and he stumbled across the fluffy rug Doyoung had insisted on placing in the hallway. With a sigh, he kicked it back into place and then straightened it with his toes until he was satisfied with its position.

After their initial scolding, his parents had seen fit to inform him that they would be going away for the holidays—just the two of them. Some cruise in the Caribbean. So that left Taeyong alone, once again, for the holiday season. Although it wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed at their complete and utter lack of concern for their only child. Tears welled up once again as he dragged his feet across the floor, slowly continuing down the hall toward his own room.

It wasn’t like he actually _wanted_ to spend Christmas and New Years in the stifling presence of his parents. No. He didn’t know why it had upset him so badly. Perhaps he thought it would have been nice to visit his old home again—or maybe he had just wanted to feel loved by his parents.

He swung open his bedroom door and crossed the room to toss his heavy backpack on his bed as tears streamed down his cheeks. His quiet sniffles echoed around the otherwise silent space.

He could have dealt with that disappointment and feeling of loneliness. He knew very well how his family worked, after all, even if his roommates and other friends were always surprised when Taeyong mentioned anything about the way he had grown up.

But then one of his roommates—Mark—had gotten sick, a bad upper respiratory cold mixed with a sinus infection. The other boys had tried their best to help him feel better, but they had no experience caring for themselves when they were ill, let alone others. Taeyong supposed he could thank his parents’ general neglect in that regard, at the very least. So Taeyong had willingly taken on the responsibility of caring for Mark until he had fully recovered from his illness the day before. No matter how busy he was or how stressed he felt, he would never allow one of his friends to suffer when he could do something to help.

Taeyong coughed into his arm as his lungs got tighter, and he left his room to head for the kitchen. Reminders of the past two weeks just kept coming, worsening his anxiety all the while.

On top of all the stress in his personal life, it seemed that most of his professors had chosen last week of all weeks to reprimand their classes for their “abysmal” attitude in class and the “utter lack of effort” they put into their work. While Taeyong knew he wasn’t included in _that_ lecture, the professors’ disappointment had struck a chord in his already low self-esteem. It had only added to his usual feelings of inadequacy despite his high grades and praise from those very professors who had lectured them.

His tears hadn’t stopped yet, and he could hear his breath whistling as it passed through his tight airway when he finally entered his sanctuary: the kitchen. Thankfully, his roommates hadn’t left any messes lying around because he didn’t think he could deal with any more stressors at the moment.

With another wheezing breath, Taeyong made his way to the pantry and began dragging seemingly random bags and containers out onto the counter. He knew exactly what was in each and every one of them: flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and anything else he thought he could use. He next moved to the fridge and began pulling out more ingredients—eggs, milk, fruit of any sort, anything he might need for the multitude of recipes that were floating around in his brain.

As he moved on to pull pans, bowls, utensils, and measuring tools out of the cabinets, he considered perhaps one of the biggest stressors of the past two weeks. He gripped the counter with both hands and attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to take a deep breath. At some point in the week, Taeyong had misplaced all his course materials for his advanced music theory class—his textbooks, notes, handouts, everything he had done for the semester, and all of his progress for the semester-long project.

He couldn’t dwell on that now, though. He needed to focus on baking or he was going to have a full-blown panic attack in their kitchen.

After a quick shake of his head, his pink hair flying about him, Taeyong grabbed the nearest bowl and measuring cups and flipped to the bookmarked page of his favorite cookbook for desserts. And then the kitchen was filled with clink of dishes and utensils as he cut cubes of butter into the mixture of dry ingredients until it transformed into dough to make the crust of a lemon tart.

The crust was in the oven in record time. Taeyong set a timer and stepped back to his self-designated baking station to begin working on the lemon curd filling. He heated and whisked the mixture until it was the perfect consistency and the citrusy scent of lemons permeated the kitchen. A quick taste from a clean spoon assured him that his process had been perfect.

Measuring, weighing, calculating, mixing by hand—it all cleared his mind in a way nothing else could. It loosened the tightness in his throat and lungs. It took the pressure off his chest, kept his hands from trembling, slowed the flow of tears. And it allowed him to think more logically than he was able to when filled to the brim with volatile emotions.

He kept an eye on the tart crust in the oven and poured the filling into a covered bowl before placing it in the refrigerator to set until the crust had finished baking and cooling down. In the meantime, he would start on the next project: apple crisp cookies—a new recipe he had found online and been meaning to try out for weeks.

Using the online recipe as his reference, he calculated the appropriate amount of each ingredient and measured them precisely. Then, he diced a few apples he had bought when grocery shopping earlier in the week and added the pieces into the bowl before mixing it all together to form the dough for the base of the cookies. A sugary sweet aroma harmonized with the scent of lemon.

Who cared if his parents were leaving him alone for the holidays? He hadn’t actually _wanted_ to spend time with them—being questioned, judged, scolded for whatever they deemed necessary. He began mixing the ingredients for the streusel topping and took a deep breath. Cinnamon spice warmed him. He had known for years now that his parents didn’t truly love him. He had found a new family here at university anyway. Although they wouldn’t be with him for the holidays since they were going to visit their own families, he knew they would all spend time together before and after.

A quick once-over showed Taeyong that the streusel was finished. He set it aside next to the dough base and covered both bowls to wait for the tart crust to finish.

Mark was better now, so there was no need to worry about the younger man so much. He had expressed his gratitude almost incessantly as Taeyong took care of him, and he never once took out his irritation at being sick on Taeyong. The rest of their roommates were doing well too—Doyoung and Johnny never really did seem to get sick.

Taeyong took measured breaths as he watched the tart crust closely through the glass oven door, making sure it didn’t bake for too long. The scent of baking pastry seeped into his mind, helping relax his muscles.

All the little things that had built up during the past two weeks seemed so inconsequential now. Those assholes who had mocked him in class for actually doing the work and participating in class discussions? They would probably fail out anyway because of their somewhat perplexing habit of refusing to do any coursework. They knew that they still had to pay tuition, right?

He sighed happily as the crust finished—just the right golden brown color around the edges. Grabbing two of their most colorful oven mitts, Taeyong removed the crust and left it sitting on a wire rack to cool, but not without breathing in the warm, buttery smell of it first.

As he moved back to the bowls of apple crisp cookie dough and streusel topping, he thought of all the other things that had bothered him. He measured out almost perfectly uniform scoops of dough and placed them on the cookie sheets as he remembered all the inconsiderate, sometimes downright rude people who had interacted with him throughout the week. He pressed little bits of streusel into the top of each cookie and thought of all the little problems with their apartment (like the sudden increase of burnt out lights and the broken coffee machine) that had added stress to his life. He took a deep breath. All of those problems were over now. The people weren’t here, the apartment issues were fixed. It was done. With a small sigh of relief, he placed the first batch of cookies in the oven to bake.

As for the missing coursework and materials… Taeyong took another deep breath and began setting aside ingredients for his favorite coffee cake. He already knew the recipe by heart, so he began mixing together the dry ingredients without referencing anything online or in a cookbook.

He would ask around, check at the campus lost and found. And if he couldn’t find anything, he would borrow someone’s materials to catch up. He knew Taeil took detailed notes in that class, and the older man would never turn down a friend in need.

Once everything was sifted together, he began pouring the wet ingredients into the bowl of dry ingredients and mixing it all together.

He would talk to the professor about borrowing a textbook, at least until he could afford to buy another with money from his part-time job. No way would he tell his parents he had lost a textbook worth that much money, especially not when they were already holding his tuition payments over his head whenever they had a chance.

Another deep breath, another caress of cinnamon and brown sugar. The majority of his project for the semester was also backed up on his laptop, so it wasn’t like he would have to redo everything. He would figure it out. It would turn out okay.

After finishing the cake base mixture, Taeyong buttered a cake pan with an efficiency born of practice. Within minutes, the cake batter had been poured it into the buttered pan and set to the side. When the oven timer went off a few seconds later, he removed the tray of cookies and filled another tray to replace it.

As for his lack of sleep—well, that was just part of being an overachieving university student. He would catch up as much as possible during the weekend. Taeyong took a few more deep breaths as the cookies baked and he measured and mixed the ingredients to make the crumbly topping for the coffee cake. There was hardly any pressure remaining in his chest now, and his eyes were dry, if a bit stiff from all the tears earlier.

When the third batch of cookies went into the oven, he began cleaning up some of the mess he had made—clearing the countertop of any stray ingredients he would no longer need and then sweeping the floor to catch anything he had dropped or spilled.

Although his problems hadn’t disappeared completely, he felt much more stable than he had when he had arrived home earlier. He would have to wait until the new week started to take care of some things, so he would take the weekend to relax as much as possible and start worrying again on Monday.

A smile broke out—his first real one all week—as the timer announced that the last batch of cookies was finished. He stepped away from the small pile of dirt and debris on the floor to quickly wash his hands and then take the cookies out of the oven.

As the cookies set and the oven cooled down to the correct temperature for the coffee cake, Taeyong finished sweeping and then mopping the floor. The relief of baking and the aroma of sweets had his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

He had coursework to do this weekend, just as he always did, but he found that he wasn’t dreading it as much now that he had calmed down and baked away his stress.

Once Taeyong checked the oven and deemed it an appropriate temperature for the coffee cake, he placed it inside and set the timer. As the cake began baking, he went about removing the apple crisp cookies from the cookie sheets to place them on the stacked cooling racks. He then pulled aside a few of the last ingredients he had left out and began mixing the maple glaze for the cookies.

He made quick work of the glazing process. After placing wax paper underneath the racks to catch any dripping liquid, he coated the cookies with enough glaze to satisfy his own sweet tooth and that of his roommates too. As soon as they were glazed and drying, he began mixing the simple white glaze for the cake, and then he set it aside.

After checking on the cake, he added the crumbly mixture to the top, popped it back into the oven, and reset the timer. His body felt completely relaxed as he moved away from the oven and began to tackle all the dishes he had dirtied. Although he couldn’t exactly say that he enjoyed washing dishes, it was all part of the baking process, and he knew that if he didn’t wash everything now, it would only bug him later.

As he kept his hands busy with the dishes, his mind wandered to thoughts of what he should do during the weekend. He would take care of his coursework later, perhaps Saturday or, if he were feeling really daring, Sunday afternoon. It wouldn’t hurt to check if his roommates had something planned either. He knew they wouldn’t mind if he asked to join them.  

The timer rang out just as he finished rinsing off the last bowl. He quickly set it in the dish drainer, dried his hands, and made his way over to the oven to check on the cake, a wave of warm air rushing over him. He left it in the oven for another few minutes, just until he was certain it had baked all the way through, and then took it out to cool.

After checking that the tart crust was ready, he pulled the lemon curd filling from the fridge, mixed it all together once again to keep an even consistency, and poured it into the crust shell in one smooth motion. He scraped any remainders off the sides of the bowl and into the middle of the tart. With a focus he reserved only for baking and music, Taeyong then gently pressed the lemon curd filling into each little scallop at the edges of the crust and smoothed the top of the filling until it was level. Once he was satisfied with its appearance, he placed it in the fridge next to the containers of raspberries and strawberries that he planned to use for decoration when he served the tart.

With a quiet laugh, he thought of the shock his roommates would get when they saw all the sweets sitting there just for them. He moved back to the counter to load the apple crisp cookies, with their now-dry glaze, into airtight containers to keep them fresh and soft.

As Taeyong washed more dishes—the wire racks and cookies sheets—the exhaustion hit him. Now that his anxiety had died down and the anticipation for baking had finally settled, he just felt overwhelmingly tired.

Still, he finished his washing and then drizzled white glaze on top of the coffee cake when it was still slightly warm. He washed the last of the dishes and left them to dry as he switched the kitchen lights off and returned to his room, tired feet dragging with each step.

With a quick look down at his messy clothes—it was inevitable that he would get ingredients on himself while baking—he decided to take a quick shower. The hot water might even drain any remaining tension from his shoulders.  

He rummaged through his clothes, careful not to get flour or anything else on them, and finally settled on his most comfortable pair of fluffy joggers and a long-sleeved cotton shirt with a hoodie to keep him warm.

His shower was quick but no less relaxing. He felt like an entirely new person as he dried himself off and pulled on his clothes.

Before heading to the living room, Taeyong checked once more on the cake—still cooling. He had just settled comfortably into the couch when he heard the front door opening. He made no effort to get up, just sitting there wrapped in his too large hoodie with his eyelids drooping lazily, still surrounded by the sweet aroma of desserts.

Johnny’s loud “Oh my god!” from the kitchen made his heart jump. As he turned his head toward the hallway, Johnny came flying around the corner. When he caught sight of Taeyong all bundled up on the couch, he rushed over to sit next to him, hands hovering about nervously.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as he stared down a sleepy Taeyong. “I saw the kitchen—so many desserts! I knew you were stressed, but I didn’t realize it was so bad. I should have checked on you before now. I—”

Johnny’s rambling was cut off by Taeyong waving a dismissive hand in front of him and shaking his head gently from side to side.

“Johnny, it’s really okay,” Taeyong assured him quietly, almost completely out of energy. “I didn’t want to bother anyone, and I just let it all bottle up until now. It’s not your fault at all, okay?” Taeyong searched Johnny’s concerned face to make sure he had gotten through to the older man. He had been taught from a young age to take care of his own problems alone, and the habit had never fully left him.

“Yeah, but I should have noticed!” Johnny argued quietly, lowering his tone after seeing Taeyong’s jaw-cracking yawn. “You always take such good care of us, and we want to take care of you too. We want to be there for you.” Johnny lowered his gaze to stare at his own hands, twisting anxiously in his lap, but all Taeyong wanted was to meet his eyes and reassure him.

“I know, Johnny, and I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate that. But it’s not your fault. I should have opened up, and I didn’t.” One look at Johnny’s face had him changing tactics. “Besides, I’m feeling much better now. I’ve baked and cleaned it all out of my system, and I’m ready to relax for the weekend—at least until I have to start on my projects and coursework,” he added on with grimace.

“Well, don’t worry about that right now,” Johnny rushed to reassure him with a smile. “Let’s just relax for a while,” he prodded gently as he opened his arms in welcome.

Taeyong smiled sleepily as he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Johnny in the same comforting way the older man had surrounded him.

“And maybe after your nap—because you definitely need one of those,” Johnny murmured as he laid back and pulled Taeyong down to lie on his chest, “we can eat some of those sweets you’ve supplied us with.”

Taeyong hummed in agreement as his eyes slid closed. He tangled his legs up with Johnny’s as the older man’s warmth lulled him to sleep. Johnny’s larger frame was comforting and safe, and Taeyong felt no resistance as he drifted off to sleep, fully relaxed for the first time in weeks.

*          *          *

Taeyong drifted back to consciousness slowly, still caught in the last vestiges of sleep. He felt warm, almost hot, and his mind was still hazy from his nap. But he was comfortable.

“Guys, shut up!” came Johnny’s whispered scolding. Taeyong could feel Johnny’s voice rumbling in his chest. “You’re going to wake him up!”

Taeyong lifted his head from where it had been pressed up against Johnny’s chest. He blinked rapidly as his surroundings came into focus, and he glanced down at the man under him.

“Sorry, Taeyong,” Johnny apologized. “I tried to keep them quiet, but you know how these savages are.” His joking tone clashed with his sincere frown, which drew forth a quiet laugh from Taeyong. The younger man stretched as best as he could when halfway stuck between Johnny and the back of the couch.

“Hey, you’re awake!” called Mark. Taeyong turned to look at the smiling man and caught sight of Doyoung as he did so.

“Yeah, because of you!” Johnny shot at him. Mark had the decency to smile sheepishly at Taeyong.

The older man just giggled and sleepily mumbled that it was okay—no harm done. Although he would like to keep sleeping, he knew he should get up soon to make something to eat. On cue, his stomach growled, eliciting a blush across Taeyong’s cheeks.

“I should go make dinner,” Taeyong said as he attempted to rise.

Johnny just pulled him back down gently. “No need.”

“Johnny texted us and asked us to bring food from that restaurant you like so much,” Doyoung explained, smile lighting up his face. “We got you kalguksu.”

Taeyong glanced back down at the older man with a fond smile and thanked them all.

“Well, let’s eat then!” Mark called out. “Ten will be here a bit later, but he said we should start without him.”

Doyoung and Mark went to grab the food from the kitchen as Johnny and Taeyong sat up and pulled the coffee table closer to them.

They conversed throughout dinner, happy to have made it through the week. The others talked about their plans for the weekend, but Taeyong just finished his kalguksu and leaned sleepily against Doyoung, who had kicked Johnny out of his spot on the couch.

When Ten showed up, they all voted to watch a movie. Taeyong didn’t pay attention to the title because he knew he would end up sleeping through it anyway. Ten stole Doyoung’s place next to Taeyong when Doyoung joined Mark and Johnny to help clear the coffee table of food and then bring in the desserts from the kitchen.

No one commented on the reason behind the ridiculous amount of baking Taeyong had done, which the pink-haired man was grateful for. He was sure Johnny had explained the situation to them before, while Taeyong had been asleep.

“Well, tell us what you made this time, you sweet genius,” Ten joked with a light nudge to his stomach and a cheesy wink.

Taeyong indulged him and spoke in an overly pompous manner as the others placed the desserts on the table in front of him. “On your right, we have a lemon tart with raspberries and strawberries, a nice blend of sweet and sour, if I do say so myself.” Ten let out a few gasps of excitement for effect as Taeyong continued. “In the middle are apple crisp cookies with maple glaze—slightly healthier than traditional chocolate chip cookies,” he explained with a wink. “And last, but definitely not least, we have a glazed coffee cake, a specialty of mine for years now.” A quick shared look with Johnny had them both laughing at his ridiculous introduction.

“Oh my god, we can eat all of them, right?” Ten asked excitedly, looking as if Christmas had come early. He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Taeyong laughed. “You can, but don’t blame me if you gain ten pounds.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Ten answered solemnly as he leaned forward to grab a cookie. The others followed suit, and Taeyong was happy to see that they were enjoying his baking. He too, enjoyed his fill of sweets before getting up to brush his teeth and complete his skin care routine since he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He could feel sleep dragging him into its embrace, clutching at his bones and weighting him down.

When he finished, he returned to his place on the couch, somewhat squished between Ten and Johnny, but he was comfortable enough for his eyes to slip closed before the opening credits had even finished. He fell asleep surrounded by warmth, with his head cushioned on Ten’s shoulder and the soft narration of the movie entering his ears. Not even the quiet conversations of his friends around him would disturb his peaceful sleep—of that he was sure.


End file.
